


The Boy of All Hallows

by CatNip_618



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Rise of the Guardians (2012)
Genre: Ambiguous/Open Ending, Amnesia, Amnesiac Harry Potter, Canonical Character Death, Crossover, Crossovers & Fandom Fusions, Death, Fate & Destiny, Gen, Master of Death Harry Potter, Memory Loss, Past Character Death, Personification of Death, Spirits, Sprites, Unreliable Narrator
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-18
Updated: 2020-07-18
Packaged: 2021-03-05 06:41:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,377
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25346380
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CatNip_618/pseuds/CatNip_618
Summary: The night Harry Potter was hit with the Killing Curse in May 1998, he was given a gift from The Man in the Moon and received an identity as the Sprite of Death. Unfortunately, as a consequence, he no longer knows himself.
Comments: 7
Kudos: 114





	The Boy of All Hallows

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Sprite of Death](https://archiveofourown.org/works/16500311) by [Yunes](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Yunes/pseuds/Yunes). 



> I have added Harry’s last moments as a mortal human. Eh heh heh heh... (7/26/20) And it is my eighteenth birthday today! Finally an adult! Next up, senior year!

**“We carry on through the storm**

**Tired soldiers in this war**

**Remember what we’re fighting for**

**. . .”**

**— Meet Me on the Battlefield by SVRCINA**

* * *

  
  


Harry, instead of closing his eyes, looked up into the sky as Voldemort raised his bone-white wand. The moon was shining at him, small and insignificant among the stars. 

_“Avada Kedavra!”_

As the rush of death came upon him, he fell, his eyes still open, and the moon grew and _shone._ A great white light that overtook his vision entirely. 

_The moon was shining so bright..._

* * *

  
  
The light was beautiful. It shone into his bright green eyes and calmed him. He felt like he was flying.

  
He noticed the dirt in his nails. It was cool and damp. It felt comforting on his pale, white skin and he burrowed in it. He was so tired; he wanted to sleep. He wondered where he was. He looked to the glittering, night sky and saw trees. Tall, dark, looming trees. 

He wanted to sleep under those trees. 

But the Man in the Moon didn’t let him. 

He realized that the calming light was the Man in the Moon. “Hello.” He said. His voice was small and childlike, but carried well. 

_Hello, Hadrian Hollow._ Said the Man in the Moon. 

Hadrian? Is that his name? _Hm._ He liked it. It was nice.   
  


_I chose you._ Said the Man in the Moon. _You are special. Look and see.  
_

Hadrian looked and saw. He sat up, examining his clothes. He wore a khaki jacket with a blue shirt underneath, along with dark, muddy jeans and old, worn sneakers. His hair was as dark as night and gleamed in the Man in the Moon’s light. He had circular glasses and an odd lighting-bolt shaped scar running down on the right side of his forehead.   
  


Then he noticed the the cloak draped across his shoulders. It looked like flowing water. Silver. Many colors. It had many patterns in it too. By his side was a stick with little knobs that grew smaller as the stick grew thinner. It had a very nice handle. On his other side was a tiny black stone with a symbol on it. A triangle with a circle inside it and a line crossing both vertically. It was an odd sign. It reminded him of something. 

_Am I supposed to remember something?_ He turned to the Man in the Moon for answer, but nothing was said. 

He stood shakily. He leaned on a nearby tree to help steady himself. He looked around and saw more of the tall, dark and looming trees. He rather liked them. Quite nice to look at. The bark was smooth and cool. Like the dirt. 

He instinctively stuck the stick (he felt like it had another name, but he couldn’t remember it. He couldn’t remember anything but his name. Did he have an age?) into his sleeve. It felt like a thing he’d do. Though he knew nothing about himself. He put the stone in his jacket pocket and patted it reassuringly. 

_  
Those are yours._ Said the Man in the Moon. _The Wand, the Cloak, and the Stone. Use them well.  
  
_

Hadrian knew what his task was, all of the sudden. It was a rather dark task. Collecting souls. And sending them to either Heaven, Hell, or Oblivion.   
  


He saw a purple flower blooming under the moonlight. He knelt and brushed a finger with it. He was startled to see it wither and turn to ash under his fingers. He swallowed uneasily. It must be his new powers. Killing things. He hoped he couldn’t use them on people. 

_Use your powers wisely.  
  
  
_

* * *

Hadrian walked. He didn’t know how long he walked.   
  


The Man in the Moon watched him. Hadrian had a feeling that if he were to walk barefoot, the ground beneath him would rot and die. He didn’t like the sneakers, but he kept them on. He didn’t want to kill anything. Not yet. 

  
Eventually, he heard voices. 

There was a cold voice, talking quite loudly. He didn’t like that voice. And something was wrong with the man who owned that voice. It stank of something horrible. That _thing_ inside the man. He walked until he came upon a entryway of a large, broken castle. Fires burned on the floor and rubble was strewn about. The commotion was coming from the left. He walked down many stairs and hallways, marveling at the handiwork of the castle. So many carvings! And empty portraits. He didn’t understand the meaning of those.

This place was very odd. 

But it felt like home. 

He walked into another grand entryway, passing many bed-ridden souls already taken across the other side. But the sounds weren’t from there. He entered what appeared to be a large courtyard with hundreds of living souls and people huddled within. 

And Hadrian found his source of unease. 

A bald man, with bone white skin and snake-like features, was telling the people in front of him to bow down to him. He ordered the people - the kids - to obey his every whim and spoke of fear. And danger; and sorrow; and so much _fear._ It stank of it. He saw a giant holding the body of... him! He swallowed a gasp and stared the pale version of himself. Was he dead? Was that his dead body? Well, it made sense, since he was a sprite now. 

He brushed the bangs off his other self’s face and saw the same lightning bolt scar. But touching this body felt wrong. So he stopped, dropping his arm to his side. 

  
Then a boy with bloodied cuts all over his face, holding an old dirty hat, limped up to the bad man and seemed to be looking at where Hadrian stood. His eyes were wide. Had he been seen? He didn’t think it’d be good to be seen with the same body resting dead in another’s arms. He hadn’t realized that nobody could see him. He was invisible.

The cut up boy spoke of bravery. And talking about another boy named Harry Potter. 

That name didn’t ring a bell. It only summoned a terrible ache in his stomach. Was he this Harry Potter? Had that been his name before he died? So many questions, yet no answers. The boy continued to talk of many positive things. Then, he drew a red-jeweled sword with words on the blade from the old dirty hat and the kids cheered. He noticed they had sticks too. Like his. And the bad men had them too.

And there were so many lights. So many beautiful colors. 

And gibberish words. Words like _Bom-bardi-a._ Or _A-vada-Ka-dav-ra._ And _Re-duct-o_. Strange words. Hadrian guessed that they were spells of some sort. He felt his wand in his sleeve. He wanted to try out these spells, but didn’t want to risk discovery. 

And then the boy who made the speech of bravery cut off a great snake’s head with the red-jeweled sword. And he felt it. The loss a man’s and snake’s soul. He walked over to the still-squirming body of the snake as the man gasped for breath, and simply... snatched it from the mortal plane. 

He looked up at the Man in the Moon and slammed the two broken souls into the ground. Where Hell resides. They didn’t belong in Heaven. The souls fought mightily but Hadrian won. The souls were sentenced to internal torture. Unimaginable pain. Maybe, one day, he’ll set them free. Hadrian knew now that he was a very forgiving sprite. He didn’t want broken souls in Hell forever, unless they set out to harm Heaven. 

He would probably send the evilest ones to Oblivion. To a place that wasn’t a place since it didn’t exist. No peace, but no pain. They just aren’t there anymore. They are nothing. They will be forgotten. They will be looked upon as bad; evil; despicable. His task wasn’t very nice. He was in charge of death and it wasn’t pretty. 

  
And then Hadrian watched as the brave boy turned the sword from the dead snake to the man before him. Hadrian walked closer, preparing to heave this soul into Hell until he knew they have paid their price. The brave boy sliced the head of the man clean off his body and Hadrian quickly snatched the soul before it could escape. With one final shove, he slammed that one into the ground too and ignored its furious and terrified screams. 

He looked up and saw the courtyard was eerily silent. The brave boy was panting and staring at the body of the snake-like man. Then he turned to the body in the giant’s arms. He brushed the body’s bangs away from his forehead and Hadrian felt a phantom of a hand ghost over his. 

  
“You’ll be in our hearts, Harry. You’re not just a legend. You’re family.” The brave boy said, his voice confident yet sad at the same time. 

“Thanks, Neville.” 

  
Wait a minute. Where had that come from? He didn’t know the boy! The brave boy’s name was Neville? The boy - Neville - whipped his head to face Hadrian. He stared at him directly into his eyes. He was just as shocked as Neville looked. A single tear dropped down the boy’s face. 

“Harry?” Neville gasped. Hadrian let a small smile appear on his lips. He gave a little wave. A girl - more like a young woman - with bushy brown hair - she also made him feel a great ache in his stomach, almost like homesickness - walked up to Neville and asked him what was wrong. Neville blinked for a moment, seeming confused before saying, “Nothing. I-I though I saw something odd.” 

“What was it?” The young woman asked.   
  
Neville shook his head. “Nothing. I don’t remember.” 

The young woman looked skeptical. “Are you sure?” 

“Yes. I am sure.” 

The young woman said nothing after that.   
  


* * *

It was a long while before Hadrian got a chance to talk to Neville in private. The courtyard was cleaned of rubble and the bodies of the bad men and wounded kids were moved to the same large room where the other fallen ones lay. The headless man’s body was sealed in a chamber not too far away and Hadrian’s body was stored gently into another sealed chamber. It seeemed nobody wanted to look at the body yet. Hadrian knew they didn’t want to face the truth. 

Neville guided Hadrian to a door that appeared on a wall after Neville was done pacing in front of it. He led him inside and it was revealed to be a nice, quiet sitting room with plush chairs and a table with a series of books resting atop it. Candles were lit and safely away from anything flammable. 

Neville promptly burst into tears once the door of the room closed. “Harry!” He wailed, “I thought... I thought... You were gone!”

  
“Well, I’m here. Er, where is here?” Hadrian asked a bit awkwardly. 

Neville stared at him incredulously. “What are you talking about?”

Hadrian frowned. “What are _you_ talking about?”

“You don’t remember this place?” Neville asked, his eyes tearing up again. 

“No. I don’t remember anything. I know your name is Neville. Mine is Hadrian Hollow.”

“Hadrian Hollow?” Neville parroted. 

“The Man in the Moon gave me that name.”

”The Man—? Wait a minute.” Neville turned to the books that were sitting at the small table. He picked one up. “Okay. _Lost Tales of Olde._ ” He opened it up and leafed through the pages. He flipped for a couple of minutes but finally crowed in success. 

“Here!” He exclaimed, “my Gran taught me these things. Look!” Hadrian looked at the page and a Moon with a face. On the top was the words _Sprites and the Moon._ Neville began to read through the paragraph: 

  
_“When a sacrifice or powerful and meaningful death is made, the Man in the Moon may choose a likely candidate to be a Sprite. There is the elemental Sprites, the childhood Sprites, and fate Sprites. Elementals are the ones who control the Earth: Water, fire, air, ground. Weather, earthquakes, natural disasters, etc._

_The childhood Sprites are: the Tooth Fairy, Father Christmas, the Easter Bunny (the day of Christ’s rebirth), the Sandman (the one who gives dreams), and the Guardian of Fun (Jack Frost). They keep children’s lives happy and carefree for as long as possible._

_The fate Sprites are the one who control the inevitable: Death, Life, and Fate. Death collects souls and sends them either to Heaven, Hell, or The End. Life creates life. Plants, animals, people, the universe. Fate is in control of everything. They lead others to alternate endings and create alternate worlds and dimensions that coexist or not at all._

_The Man in the Moon is the spirit that guide the souls from Heaven to be chosen as a Sprite, though it is extremely rare. The chances of it happening are less than a percent. It is only after the passing of one of the Sprites is another chosen._

_When a mortal is chosen, it is inevitable that they lose their memories of their past lives. They are basically reborn as a new person, but no longer human. It is even rarer to chose a mortal as a Sprite.  
_

_In order to see a Sprite, one must believe. One must believe in Life, or Death, or Fate. One must truly believe and then they will see. They must not be afraid, but to be accepting of it. To be ready to face the inevitable.”_

Neville turned to Hadrian after finishing. “Which one are you?” 

“Death.” Hadrian answered. 

“So...” Neville trailed off. “What happened when I... cut their heads off?”

”I sent their souls to Hell. Eventually, they’ll get The End. I call it Oblivion.”

“They deserve it.” Neville said. 

”Well, I plan to send them to Oblivion because I’m a forgiving Sprite. But there would be no peace. They simply would not be.” 

“Is that better than Heaven?” Neville asked curiously. 

“I do not know. It is a place that isn’t a place. It doesn’t exist. But I can still send souls there.” 

“I see you.” Neville spoke after a beat of silence. 

Hadrian nodded. “You do. You believe.” 

**“We could change it all...”**

**Author's Note:**

> The other author’s name they used was ‘Harry Hallow’, but I will be using a similar name, but give the credit to them. I’ve already asked permission but have not yet received a response. As for his clothes, I stuck to the ones he wore in the film. And I’ve realized that the battle where Harry vanquished the Dark Lord was around dawn, but my story takes place at night. How about we say it was earlier in the night, eh? 
> 
> And I don’t know what afterlife concepts I’ll be using, so I’m just sticking to Heaven and Hell. Sorry if this offends religious readers! I mean no ill intention. 
> 
> LONGEST ONESHOT EVER.
> 
> You can ask me for more chapters. I don’t know if I’ll be continuing things. It was a spur of the moment kind of thing.


End file.
